A Certain Fondness
by glamaphonic
Summary: UPDATED: CHAPTER THREE. Brother and sister were already present and arranged when Mai and Ty Lee arrived, Azula, the image of placidity, and Zuko, ill at ease. AU. MaiZuko.
1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:** With apologies to Miss Austen.

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

_In which the Myerscough home is disrupted_

oOo

Mai Myerscough, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and strainless routine, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence, save her unhappy disposition, as had persisted unabated since childhood; and in the grip of which she had lived nearly twenty years in the world with very little that did not vex her.

The comfortable home, the country estate of Lanyon situated just east of the town of Westmacott, was that of her father. Mr. Myerscough worked more often than he did aught else, though this was owed less to a high degree of industriousness than to a certain lack of wit which rendered his every occupation more difficult than it might otherwise have been. Though there existed no malice, his interest in his daughter had always been limited, and Mai reciprocated this apathy, unmoved to strive for that affection which she deemed both remote and of dubious usefulness. It was a decision made just prior to her becoming too old to be dandled upon his knee, and, after that time had passed, there was simply no reason to reconsider it. Indeed, even the rare moments when Mai began to reflect upon it at all were immediately set aside, forced from her mind entirely by the excess of interest that her mother displayed.

Mrs. Myerscough shared all of her daughter's appeal and none of her faults, having ones unique to herself instead, and concerned herself absolutely with Mai's every action, fancy, and thought; all in the interest of guiding each of these things towards a standard of perfection long ago established in her mind. When very young, Mai was suitably malleable, but with age and agency came a flat disinterest and accompanying dismissiveness that comprised a frustrating state, hovering indecisively between rebellion and obeisance.

Numerous and sundry topics were the focus of these domestic battles of attrition between mother and daughter, but by the time that Mai was 19 only a single issue remained both unresolved and unsurrendered. The late arrival of Mai's younger brother, soon after she turned 15, had provided Mai with nearly two years of peace while her mother doted on the infant. However, the subsequent two years, after he had been relinquished to the care of his nurses, saw the topic return with amplified focus. This owed to the fact, her mother insisted, that it was the most important topic of all.

"Ah, to be sure, I should love a wedding," Mrs. Myerscough sighed without provocation, her soup cooling in front of her. Mai ignored this lamentation, as was her wont, but Mr. Myerscough, at best only marginally aware of the struggle between wife and daughter, could always be depended upon to be easily led.

"Miss Olmsted recently married, did she not?" he asked, only briefly looking up from his dinner. "Though, I suppose she is that no longer. What was the fellow's name?"

"Mr. Harold Langtry," Mrs. Myerscough offered instantly, her mental catalogue of every unattached young man in all of Westmacott and neighboring counties positively infallible. "It was a passable ceremony, inasmuch as the quality of such a thing is often determined by the quality of the bride. You'll remember, Mrs. Langtry is sweet, but very plain. Nuptials can only do so much to overcome such natural inadequacies. Of course, I might envy Mrs. Olmsted, when all is said. Who could really argue that charge of a plain bride is inferior to charge of an appealing girl stubbornly insistent upon maidenhood? Not one such as I, who longs to oversee bridespeople and their goings-on, that's certain." Mrs. Myerscough eyed her daughter pointedly, challenge clear in her posture.

Mai met this challenge, as always, direct and unflinching. "How lucky then, Mother, that you, yourself, are married and as such have already had the great fortune of being the primary agent in a wedding."

"Be that as it may, that was only the highlight of my life as a girl." Mrs. Myerscough's fortitude was no less than that of her daughter's. "It is a wife and mother's dearest desire, you know, to marry her children."

"Well, you have only a few decades to wait for Thom. You are hale and hearty and have a very good chance of surviving that long." Mai paused, as if in consideration, brows knit together. "Less so for you, Father," she said after a moment.

Mr. Myerscough spared only a look askance at his daughter. Humor of any kind had never been something to which he was inclined, and it had long since become apparent that Mai's particular sort of wit was just as lost on him as any other, if not moreso.

Mrs. Myerscough set down her silverware with a raucous clatter. "Is it just that you take joy in the suffering of others? No! Not the suffering of any other, but particularly that of those most deeply attached to you?" Mai sighed and cast her eyes towards the far corner of the room, staring at the emptiness in hope of some respite from yet another rendition of this same discussion. "It is not just your own mother that you torment, she who cares more for you and your well-being than her own life, but scores of the brightest, loveliest young men in all of Westmacott. Each utterly besotted with you, each desolated by your indifference. I am often left to wonder if there has ever been a creature so wantonly cruel as you."

"She's but a young girl," Mr. Myerscough said ponderously, largely to himself. "There must have been at least a few."

Both Mrs. and Miss Myerscough ignored their lord. "It has hardly been scores of men, a dozen at best, and it is likely that you attribute far more distress to each of them than experienced by the entire collective," Mai responded, her boredom clear in her voice.

"Twelve or two hundred rejected, soon it will not matter. Eventually, the bloom is off every rose, my dear. You are nearly twenty; you had best accept an offer before they cease entirely."

Mai scoffed, an indelicate sound. "I shall never want for suitors so long as there are 20,000 pounds a year in my name."

Mrs. Myerscough scowled in displeasure, the expression making her resemblance to her daughter even more pronounced. In times prior, the removal of that very inheritance had been threatened as incentive towards matrimony, but Mr. Myerscough, for all his faults, weighed the safety and protection of each of his family members far too heavily to approve of such measures, and Mai was far too clever to be unaware of the emptiness of the threat.

"Do you really find them all so repulsive?" Mrs. Myerscough asked voice suddenly bright and conversational once more, unrelenting in her attack. "What about the Appletons' houseguest, Mr. Bosanquet? Mrs. Appleton tells me that he has asked after you no fewer than half a dozen times since our visit and while, of course, she would not openly say as much, that is far more interest than he's shown in either of her daughters, both in the house with him!"

"Oh, Mother, really. He's mustachioed like a Spanish bandit."

Mrs. Myerscough huffed violently in frustration and Mai's pert mouth shifted from its default neutrality, curving into a deep frown.

"That is always your way: no suggestions, only disapproval! My question would be then, Mai, if they are all so equally uninteresting, so overwhelmingly unmoving to you, and my insistence so deeply vexing, why not just marry any one of them and relieve yourself of this final annoyance?"

Mai crossed her arms, aware that her posture was petulant, but entirely unconcerned. "Do you believe it is just these men that I find uninteresting? That I am unmoved only by their careful, calm declarations of affection? It is this place, this life, as absent of vitality as it is, drab, mundane, and unexciting. Why should I marry any of them in all of their painful inoffensiveness if it will do nothing but bind me further to that which I already find intolerable?"

They were more words and more serious than Mai had ever spoken on the subject before and perhaps it was that which brought Mrs. Myerscough away from her hysteria. When she spoke again, her own words were as calm and serious as Mai's had been.

"A restless spirit never did a single woman in all of history any good." She held Mai's gaze for a long moment before turning in her chair to eye the dining room entryway, abruptly ending the conflict.

"Whereever is Emmaline?" Mrs. Myerscough rose and bustled towards the kitchen in one swift motion, her voice still carrying back to the dining hall. "Emmaline, must I be required to seek you out and set you on your chores at the end of every meal?"

That should not have been the end of it; indeed, Mai did not expect anything of the sort, and yet, magnificently somehow it seemed, at least, an intermission. Days passed, then weeks, and not a single word from her mother about marriage. For all her attempts, Mai could not even catch her mother's appraising eye on any promising young men during their journeys into town. She was not foolish enough to think the subject permanently closed, particularly since there had been no formal concession from her mother, but she had been lulled into complacency by the time it was to be resolved.

As it happened, there was no ending at all, but rather a beginning that was equally appealing to both Mrs. and Miss Myerscough and was delivered into the former's grasping hands one clear April morning. Mrs. Meyerscough immediately summoned Mai from the corner of the library where the girl often wiled away the hours, half-reading and half-fantasizing about lives more engaging than her own, and informed her daughter of the reason before both feet had passed the threshold.

"A letter!" Mrs. Myerscough exclaimed, presenting the object to Mai with a flourish. "A letter, my dear, such a lovely letter in a lovely hand from a lovely girl."

"As it seems you've already taken both the reading and reaction upon yourself, is my presence really required?"

"Always so droll, my dearest daughter, but it shall not affect me on this wonderful day. Read it! Read it!" she insisted, but despite pressing the letter into Mai's hands, continued on relating its contents. "Your dear, old friend Miss Breckenridge has invited you to visit her!"

At this, interest finally took hold, and Mai's eyes scanned the neat penmanship frantically, attempting to discern whether this was a request actually stated or one merely inferred by her mother's perception. Upon reaching the bottom of the first page, she had determined that it truly was an invitation.

Mai had not seen Azula Breckenridge in nearly five years, and had not heard from her for more than two. Her mother's hand could not be more obvious.

"You wrote to her?" Mai accused.

"I did no such thing," Mrs. Myerscough claimed proudly. "I simply encouraged your father to mention your...situation in one of his regular missives to her father, Lord Breckenridge. I can only assume that he duly reported it to his daughter, who was immediately reminded of her love for you -- you were so close as children -- and inspired to seek your company."

"In London," Mai breathed. It was a rare thing for her to be excited, much less regarding something also pleasing to her mother, and though Mai was well aware that these similar feelings were aroused by entirely different ideas of her likely occupations in the city, she felt a kinship nonetheless. Mai smiled. Her mother grasped her hands.

"London. For the entire season. I daresay there cannot be a city in the world that holds more dashing and thrilling young men than London."

So buoyed was Mai's mood by the prospect of escape -- by months away from the bland tedium of Westmacott, by the promise of London and its quick society and unpredictable company -- she did not even bother to form a retort.

"I will write back at once," she declared, as genuinely as she had ever said anything.


	2. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

_In which acquaintances are reformed_

oOo

When Mai was very small, the nearest estate down the east road from Lanyon belonged to the Breckenridge family. Lord Ozai Breckenridge was a stern, imposing figure and the custodian of nebulous business dealings with Mr. Myerscough, who extolled the man's many virtues, including a charisma and benevolence that Mai could not believe lurked behind his stony countenance. His lady, Mrs. Ursa Breckenridge, was day to his night, her favorable traits, being beauty, grace, and indefatigable kindness, clear to any exposed to her. Mrs. Myerscough was, by all appearances, every bit as fond of Mrs. Breckenridge as Mr. Myerscough was of her husband, and the two couples visited often, their pleasant community a quiet, routine sort.

It was through this connection between their parents that Mai was first acquainted with the Breckenridge siblings.

Azula was the younger, though their manners would never tell it, and all of the indiscernible charisma alleged to Lord Breckenridge was obvious in her, favourably paired with a commanding air that eclipsed her stature. She was the master of their every occupation and could be kind just as easily as cruel, leaving Mai often unsure whether the primary of her feelings towards the girl was admiration or intimidation, but always certain that Azula was never unexciting.

Azula's brother, Zuko, inspired confused emotions of a different sort in Mai's young heart. He resembled his mother in disposition much more so than his father or sister, primarily in that he brimmed with emotion, of which they could not be accused, but was never vicious or wicked. His eyes were kind, his words earnest, and his smile sent Mai flushing to her very fingertips. It was a frustrating and wholly wonderful phenomenon that Mai both dreaded and anticipated at every turn.

The games that Azula orchestrated only exacerbated the ceaseless fluttering in her belly at his proximity. Altogether they were four -- with the inclusion of little Ty Lee Fullilove, sweet and excitable, a distant cousin of the Breckenridges, often left in their care while her father, a colonel, was otherwise occupied -- and Zuko was ever cast as Mai's rescuer in the tales that they constructed while they ran through the tall grass of the fields between their homes. Azula, of course, could never be less than King and General, and Zuko a knight under her charge. Ty Lee was, by Azula's declaration, too cheerful to be the melancholy princess she imagined, thus it fell to Mai to sit and wish and long for her lover to return to her arms.

And so they spent the days of their childhood, until Mai grew tall and slim and her mother threatened almost daily to put her hair up, all the while eyeing Zuko speculatively when his voice cracked around Mai's name and his hand hovered too long near hers. Azula's games changed and became calculated ones of words and wills as she collected all the young ladies of Westmacott around her. Ty Lee and Mai were always closest to her side -- adoration writ plain on the former's face and the latter's thoughts closely guarded.

Only in complete privacy did Mai smile to herself about those thoughts: the utter conviction that there was no boy in all the world more noble or passionate than Zuko, that Azula would be an acceptable sister, and that the Breckenridge home would be just as fine as Lanyon. It was only after that delicate time, when all had taken root and become a routine that foreshadowed what then seemed inevitable, that the Breckenridges moved away.

The sudden loss of Mrs. Breckenridge sent a clamor through all of Westmacott, and none could fault Lord Breckenridge for immediately leasing his home and carrying himself and his children far away from the phantom of his wife's presence. And Mai, robbed of her every attachment, set herself to staunch pragmatism -- it was all only playacting they'd outgrown after all -- and retreated entirely into her dissatisfaction.

However, that pain dulled and faded, absorbed into a cacophony of other discontent, years before Azula's letter of invitation fell into Mai's hands. The sense of distance was so strong, in fact, that upon being bundled into a chaise on the day of her departure, her mother's final instructions already put from her mind, Mai's single source of anxiety -- a rare and unpleasant emotion -- was that she would be a stranger, not to the city, but to her hosts. This fear weighed on Mai for the whole of her journey, a sudden worry over a lack of familiarity when the opposite was her normal cause of complaint being so ironic as to almost make her laugh at times. Her mind, unbidden, spent the long hours constructing fantastic scenarios about the alterations the Breckenridges had undergone in the intervening years.

Had Azula become dull and witless over time, as tirelessly consumed with occupations like choosing the perfect hat ribbon as the unbearable popinjays in Westmacott, whom Mrs. Meyerscough had long since given up the hope of Mai befriending? It seemed an ill-fitting vision, she was able to admit to herself, but nothing about the truth of Azula's manner could be gleaned from the letter. The missive was poised, polite, and brief, communicating only the desire for Mai's company and not much else. Azula had always been masterful at revealing particular aspects of her personality only under circumstances that she deemed appropriate; a letter that she was well aware would see more than Mai's eyes was not such a circumstance. And then, of course, there was Zuko. Some insistent, romantic corner of Mai's heart would not allow that he should become less vehement or less noble; so, it, instead, worried over connections he might have made as he grew into adulthood with her so far away and whatever fledgling affection towards her that he may have possessed summarily forgotten. As inheritor of both his father's wealth and title, Zuko Breckenridge would be a supreme match for any young lady in want of a husband. Azula's letter, in its brevity, had mentioned him but in passing and as such he could be promised, engaged, or even married already and Mai would know nothing of it until she was introduced to his wife.

These thoughts roiled in her mind until the coachman's announcement interrupted her, carrying easily through the wall of the chaise: "London, miss." It was only then that Mai remembered herself, the near hysteria induced by the hours of solitude and boredom falling away during those last fateful miles, replaced by her normal demeanor, unaffected and calm. By the time the chaise pulled to a stop, if she was at all out of sorts, it could not be seen on her face.

She stepped from the chaise and into London's spring air, her hat knocked askew by by her movement. Mai's hands were raised to set it right when it was upset entirely from her head by the force of the embrace in which she suddenly found herself. She had sighted only wide grey eyes and a flash of pink, an indistinct blur that did not have a chance to resolve itself into a young woman before it was upon her. Mai was neither put out or shocked, but instead found some small measure of relief in this first bit of familiarity: Ty Lee Fullilove had not changed at all.

"Oh, Mai! Dearest Mai! It has been so, so, so very long. You simply must tell me every single thing that you have done in these years — oh all these years — of our painful separation," said Ty Lee, pulling far enough away from Mai to look at her, allowing Mai to see her bright smile.

"Certainly you planned to at least let her come inside first, Ty Lee?" Azula Breckenridge stood just outside of the door of her home, her sharp-edged smile moving easily across her face. Ty Lee laughed as though Azula had turned an especially witty phrase and pivoted immediately to face the other girl, one hand still on Mai's shoulder.

"Of course not, Azula!" Ty Lee assured. "It's just been so long!"

"Indeed, it has," Azula agreed as she made her way to them. She grasped Mai's hands in both of her own and gave them a squeeze. "It is wonderful to see you, Mai. I hope your journey was not unpleasant."

"I would not think to recommend travel by post-chaise for the sake of leisure — the regular carriage changes duly prevent that — but it is bearable if one's only interest is arriving at one's destination in as short a time as possible."

"How delightful," Azula said, her voice silken, "that you were so anxious to grace us with your presence." She looked past Mai at the chaise. "And unattended?"

Mai could discern no clue in Azula's even tone how exactly she felt about this breach of propriety.

"Father has always hated the city, Mother will not travel without him, and Thom, well, he would not really have been much assistance," she responded smoothly. It was false only in part. Mai flatly told her mother that if she attempted to accompany her to London, Mai would refuse to go at all. There was little more important to Mrs. Meyerscough than Mai being introduced into the company of eligible bachelors that there was some chance she would not reject, as such this tactic proved immediately effective. She did, however, still assert that her brother, Mai's uncle, should then be chosen to go with Mai. But while Mai generally found her uncle's company quite tolerable, she lacked the patience to operate by his schedule in this endeavour. His coming to Westmacott would be a journey of itself and one he would only be able to undertake when his obligations allowed. So, Mai traveled alone.

"Positively daring," Azula pronounced after a moment; Ty Lee nodded her vigorous agreement. "I see already that this will be a fantastic visit." She looped her arm through Mai's and led her towards the house. Behind them Ty Lee recovered Mai's hat, and after a short inspection joined them, taking Mai's other arm. "All these years, so many acquaintances, and never has anyone come close to filling your place in our trio, Mai," Azula said.

"Not at all!" Ty Lee agreed.

Mai schooled her expression. "If the company in London is so disappointing then perhaps my interest in making new acquaintances here has been misplaced."

"Oh, they are generally passable," Azula said, smiling, "but you, dear, are spectacular. It is not so easy to find young ladies of our calibre, of proper breeding, intelligence, wit, and charm; there are those with one or two of these qualities, but never the complete set. There is always the learned, but humorless lady or the clever and plain girl of low birth, to be sure, but those are not acceptable situations, you can see. These last few seasons I had begun to despair completely, thinking that the only friend worthy of our company was left behind in long forgotten Westmacott, swallowed up by its mundanities."

And that was very nearly what had happened was it not? Azula's honeyed words slid across Mai's skin, coloring the truth that she had already so thoroughly considered. Westmacott had been a cage, draining and demoralizing. The relief that had been taking a slow hold of Mai seemed suddenly to all but consume her as the reality of her liberation fully dawned. A small smile lit her face.

"I confess that I have, on occasion, longed for your company as well," Mai said. Azula patted Mai's hand companionably, still smiling, and Ty Lee squealed with delight and briefly pressed a cheek against Mai's shoulder.

"Then all is settled," Azula declared and for a moment Mai recognized the tone that had arbitrated their childhood games. "Now, we have only to bring our excellence to bear and dazzle the ton of London into submission." Servants milled around them as they stepped into the foyer, ferrying Mai's affects to her room, and it was difficult not to feel as if Azula's declaration was true and inevitable.

Mai's companions herded her into the parlor, assuring her that she could see her room later, but first they must all sit and become reacquainted. Ty Lee busied herself preparing the tea and as Azula spoke of gardens, balls, and dinner parties, about the many people of her acquaintance and their many faults, Mai noted a conspicuous omission: talk of the other members of her family. Mai's interest lie in only one and she weighed her tactics carefully through Azula's recounting — with sporadic embellishments from Ty Lee — of a maiden with whom they were familiar who had eloped with a Navy man.

"Will Lord Breckenridge be joining us?" Mai asked when a lull in the conversation finally made itself apparent.

Ty Lee eyed Mai knowingly, grinning, and Azula, though it was less apparent on her face, clearly perceived as easily as Ty Lee did which Breckenridge's status Mai truly desired to know.

"Father is in Bath for the season. I should not think we will see him at all," Azula said directly and paused there, offering nothing else.

"Ah," Mai responded and the rest — And what of your brother: Mr. Breckenridge — sat on her tongue, this was a game she remembered too well. The primary curiosity was resolved in the first response, if Azula's father was not present then surely she must be chaperoned by someone and who else but her elder brother? But the other questions of his mood and status and opinion on her visit would not be answered without first being asked and they could not be asked without surrender. It was the way that Azula worked, even with her most particular of friends.

It was a less dire situation than others that had occurred, given that Mai's hesitance to capitulate in this instance derived solely from her own reticence to broach the topic for fear that her discoveries would not be to her liking. Azula waited and Mai summoned her nerve, but all was interrupted when the man himself entered the room in a haste.

He was clearly displeased, his mouth pulled into a scowl, but that did nothing, in Mai's estimation, to detract from the fact that he had grown into a man every inch as handsome as she would have hoped and expected.

"Azula," he growled, "given that it is you and not I that has such a fondness for that blasted contraption it would be much appreciated if you would cease giving _my_ word that I will provide rides about town for-" He pulled up short when he finally took in the other occupants of the room, color draining from his face.

Mai stood, facing him, and curtsied: "Mr. Breckenridge."

Zuko's expression smoothed and he tilted his head the slightest amount. "Mai," came his quiet exhalation and she found herself pinned by his gaze.

"While it is true that Father is no longer here to oversee you, dear brother, I should think that you are old enough to be aware that it is rude to stare so fixedly at a young lady." Azula sipped her tea placidly, amusement shining in her eyes.

Zuko seemed to come back to himself and bowed quickly at Mai. "Forgive me. I-It's been quite some time," he managed, looking at his shoes.

"Indeed. That has been often mentioned today."

Zuko swallowed and mumbled an affirmation. "I apologize for being…out of sorts," he offered with every modicum of earnestness she so fondly remembered. "My sister did not see fit to inform me that you were arriving in the city at all, much less calling upon us."

"Come now, forewarning would have deprived me the pleasure of seeing this very expression on your face," Azula said. Ty Lee giggled into her hand.

Zuko's countenance underwent quick alteration as he fixed them both with a dark look before facing Mai again. He cleared his throat. "In any case, welcome to London, Miss Myerscough. I hope that your stay is pleasant."

"Thank you, sir. I have already determined that I shall quite enjoy myself and my company."

A small smile graced his face and Mai felt the beginnings of those flutterings so long absent. "Where in the city will you be staying? Surely nearby enough to visit regularly- That is-"

Mai opened her mouth to answer, only mildly surprised that Azula truly had kept every detail of her visit from him, but Azula's tongue was quicker, as always.

"She'll be but a few doors down the hall from you, Zuko. You've no need to pine just yet, your access will be fairly limitless."

"Azula!" gasped Ty Lee, though amusement was far more clear in her tone than any umbrage at the impropriety.

"Oh…" was Zuko's only response for a long moment and he looked suddenly distracted, removed from everything that was happening around him, some far off consideration claiming his mind. "I have business to attend," he said when he spoke again, "but I will join you all for dinner, of course." He nodded at each of them, though his eyes did not meet Mai's, and then swept out of the room.

Azula sat, still nursing her tea, and looking very pleased with herself, and Mai finally remembered to retake her own seat. Silence reigned for several of Mai's quickened heartbeats.

Then, Ty Lee clapped her hands together in unironic joy. "You've not been here a day and your visit is already so interesting, don't you think, Mai?"

Mai had little choice but to nod in agreement.


	3. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

_In which intentions and motivations are confused_

oOo

Mai's room in the Breckenridge home was as finely appointed as any she had ever seen, but when she adjourned there in the hour before dinner was to be served that was the least of her concerns. The servants had arranged her chests neatly and she opened each of them, packed full as they were, at her mother's behest, with what seemed to Mai every dress she had ever owned. It was a concession made of weariness, not out of any belief that such an abundance of affects would ever be necessary, but Mai found herself relieved by it all the same as — stripped down to her chemise and stay — she held gown after gown up for comparison in front of the full-length mirror.

She felt quite ridiculous, the very image of the empty-headed magpies she had scorned for the whole of her adulthood, and wondered if she would have felt more charitably towards them had there been more than one man in the world whose natural powers sent her into such a state. But, no, perhaps her own awareness of the absurdity of her excessive engagement in choosing a dress for something so simple as dinner set her apart still again. It had not occurred to her, in fact, until after his abrupt departure from the parlour that the state in which he had first seen her was not the one she might have wished.

Being fresh from a long journey improved upon no one's appearance and her companions had not allowed her to clean up before their conversation. Her hair had been in some disarray and the hem of her dress stained by the unpleasant weather in which a great many of her carriage changes had taken place. The belated embarrassment overcame her as Ty Lee and Azula were describing a shop from which Ty Lee intended to buy a new hat for the dinner party Azula was holding the next day, and it held onto her still after they had separated to dress for dinner. She repaired her hair immediately and sent the dress for laundering, but it seemed the longer she stood, unable to pick a dress, the more dire the decision appeared.

Mai cast away garments from both hands and drew a deep breath. There would be nothing, nothing at all ever in the world, about which she truly cared that should be definitively decided based on which dress she was wearing. Mai breathed out, allowing her temporarily-fled rationality to return to her, and picked up a dress. The decision made, it was not long before she was completely attired and, with a final minor adjustment to her hair, she opened the door and proceeded into the hallway. She paused for a moment, considering the likely location of the dining hall, which, if she had been told she had just as soon forgotten, but in that time, Ty Lee had appeared from her own door just down the hall.

They met at the median between their locations, and Ty Lee took Mai's arm to lead her back the way from which she had come.

"Mai! That is a lovely muslin," Ty Lee said, having quickly appraised her. "Is it Indian?"

"It is," Mai confirmed. "Mother will have nothing less. Appearances must be kept up." There was not a day in the company of anyone outside of their own family that Mrs. Myerscough did not speak at great length about how the furor over the duties on Indian cotton was a lot of talk about a mere trifle — to some, at any rate.

"I'd dare say they have been," Ty Lee assured her cheerfully. Then, she frowned. "Though you could stand a brighter color. This maroon is almost drab!"

"Should I be like you then?" Mai shook her head. Ty Lee's earlier gown, in pastel trimmed with red, had been replaced by one in an even rosier shade. "I see your affection for the color pink remains undimmed."

"Quite. I do believe I have never been pinker!" Ty Lee exclaimed, taking no insult. Mai smiled in spite of herself, still surprised that she should ever miss the other girl's incessant cheerfulness, but unwilling to fight the emotion nonetheless. Ty Lee noticed this and squeezed Mai's arm more tightly.

"Oh, Mai. It makes me so sad to think of you all alone in Westmacott," she opined.

"I was hardly alone, Ty Lee. With all of the acquaintances that my mother tried to force, I would often have wished to be imore/i alone."

"I don't mean literally alone," Ty Lee clarified quickly. "Just that there was no one to be pretty with you." She leaned towards Mai bringing her mouth closer to Mai's ear before saying conspiratorially, as though those that would take insult were lurking in the walls: "We were always far and away the prettiest. Unless some of the girls underwent some much needed alteration. Was anyone greatly improved by the years?"

Mai shrugged one shoulder. "To be truthful, I spent so little time with any of them I could not tell you with any great authority."

"Rightly so," Ty Lee said with a nod, approving of this course of action.

They were descending the stairs when the bell rang clear and crisp through the house and Ty Lee began to move at a less leisurely pace, dragging Mai along with her.

"We should make haste to the dining parlour. You'll remember how Azula hates tardiness," she explained. "Besides, I'm sure you're in quite the rush to see Zuko again."

"Oh, do be quiet," Mai snapped, but Ty Lee only laughed.

Brother and sister were indeed already present and arranged when Mai and Ty Lee arrived, Azula at the head of the table and Zuko to her left. Azula's expression was the image of placidity, but Zuko, arms crossed and head turned to regard some other corner of the room, seemed ill at ease. Ty Lee quickly slipped behind Mai as they filed towards the right side of the table, thus forcing Mai to take the seat directly across from Zuko. He looked up at her briefly, then refocused his attentions on his empty plate.

"So sweet of you two to join us," Azula said evenly, though Mai was certain that no more than a minute or two could have elapsed between the ringing of the dinner bell and their arrival.

They passed a few minutes in silence other than the clinking of silverware and Mai and Ty Lee's quick compliments on the fine table Azula had set. Mai looked up at Zuko no fewer than three times, but on each occasion he was still intently studying his plate. But silence could never long reign when Ty Lee was present.

"You know, Azula, in the hall Mai and I were talking," she began. "And do you remember how much prettier we all were than the rest of the girls in Westmacott? Well, apparently, none of them became any less homely in time, Mai was able to remember. Though, of course, she did not associate with them much."

"Our dear Mai always has been of discerning tastes," Azula allowed. "In most things."

Ty Lee's agreement was vehement. "Of course, and I despaired of how lonely she must have been because of it. Can you just imagine her, arm in arm down the lane with the likes Mr. Appleton's nieces from Kyoshi Place down fresh from Surrey? What a lopsided company that would have made." Ty Lee giggled. "Just think with them so overly made up — as if that would mask their plainness — and our Mai on one end, all out of place."

"You do paint such a tragic picture, Ty Lee," Mai said, shaking her head. "Though, I think I could have it borne it as long as they did not inflict their sense of fashion on me."

"The girls in London are of better quality on that score, at least," Azula added smoothly. "I should not be ashamed to be seen with at least some of them." She turned suddenly. "Don't you think, Zuko?

Zuko looked up, appearing surprised to be included in the conversation so abruptly. "I suppose," he said distractedly.

"Oh, how sad they would be to hear you so unenthusiastic." Azula made a tutting sound. "My brother is quite popular," she said, this time directed at Mai, who kept the sudden clenching in her stomach imperceptible on her face.

"You exaggerate, Azula," Zuko responded firmly.

"I don't believe that I do, but this is veering from the primary topic. Pray tell, dear brother, do you agree that all of the charms of Westmacott have been relocated right here? Answer carefully."

Zuko blinked rapidly, looked at Mai, then looked away immediately as though he had not meant to do so, and then frowned more deeply than before. His discomfort was plain.

"What charms it possessed, yes," he finally mumbled.

Azula looked ready to pounce once more and so Mai spoke quickly, grasping for a change of subject.

"Mr. Breckenridge, I am curious, what was it that had you out of sorts this afternoon?" she asked, then quickly clarified. "When you first came into the parlour. I believe you mentioned a contraption?"

Zuko fixed her with an odd look before responding. "A curricle. A pointless extravagance given that the carriage we already owned is far more useful. I can hardly stand the thing, but my sister continually promises every silly girl she meets a trip through Hyde Park or the like. One might think she was renting out both it and my services."

"Ah," Mai said, realizing immediately how completely her attempt to derail Azula's tormenting him over his unconfessed, unacknowledged — and some part of her said, unconfirmed — affections had gone awry.

"It is only because you're so antisocial, Zuko," Azula said, voice dripping with false sincerity. "I am your sister and I worry for you ever settling down. What crime is it really to try and acquaint you with nice girls?"

"You are well aware your crime is against both propriety and good sense."

Azula was undaunted. "But you wouldn't object giving Mai a ride, I'm sure. She is an old friend, after all." Mai looked back and forth between the siblings, fully engaged in their current battle. Beside her, Ty Lee seemed unmoved, and Mai wondered if this happened so often as to seem commonplace.

Zuko's dismissal was firm and immediate. "I'm sure Miss Myerscough wishes no such journey having just spent the better part of the last day being jostled about in a carriage."

It was, in fact, too absolute a rejection for Mai's taste, and the injury to her pride was more troublesome in her irritation at its existence than anything else. "I have had my fill of the smell of horses, at least," she said curtly. "I shall not pain you."

Zuko returned to staring discontentedly at his plate and Mai similarly fixed her attention absolutely on the consumption of her repast.

"Would you look at that, Ty Lee," Azula said after a moment, smile evident in her tone, "Their sour expressions match."

"How adorable," Ty Lee agreed.

Irritation and a vague disappointment drove Mai to retire soon after dinner. All the better to lie in her bed and puzzle pointlessly about the reception she had thusfar received. Azula and Ty Lee had been as expected, but Zuko troubled her. Mai could not determine the cause of his strange shifts in mood. He had always been emotional, that was certain, but never inconsistent. Yet, in the course of this single day, he seemed to fluctuate wildly between what she perceived as indicative of affection for her and that which seemed to indicate concerted disinterest. This frustration followed her into slumber and she woke the next morning in ill humour. Though that could have also been owed to Ty Lee's early morning practicing at the pianoforte, singing scales at the highest volume of which she was capable.

The morning also saw the promised shopping trip which lifted Mai's spirits. London was far more interesting and had far more to partake of than Westmacott and there were institutions of further interest beyond shops and sweets parlours, Azula and Ty Lee assured her, for exploration at a later date. By the afternoon, when they came to rest in the sitting room, everyone seemed of much improved disposition, with the exception of Ty Lee who never wavered in her good humour. She played the pianoforte, thankfully without vocal accompaniment at Azula's behest, as Azula and Mai played cards. Even Zuko joined them shortly, sitting at the desk, engaged in writing the nature of which he would not reveal to Azula, regardless of her needling. Mai chanced glances at him every so often, usually to find that he seemed to have been looking at her as well. All the same, he was altogether more peaceful than he had appeared previously and Mai could not fault her trip at all if it were to remain similar to this for its entirety. Azula split her attention between cheating at piquet and reviewing the guest list of that night's dinner with Ty Lee, who seemed to have a mental catalogue of the attendees and their most recent occupations.

"Mai, come take a turn with me," Azula demanded as they finished another hand. "I feel dreadfully idle."

Mai obliged, standing and looping her arm through Azula's as they began a lap about the room. Mai noticed that Zuko shuffled his papers when they passed him at the desk and she saw that familiar predatory interest gleam in Azula's eyes. But instead of addressing some remark or jibe at Zuko, Azula addressed Ty Lee instead.

"Have I yet mentioned Miss Sartorius, Ty Lee?"

Ty Lee's playing did not cease as she shook her head. "You hadn't, but Song Treffry told me this past Thursday that Star isn't coming tonight."

Azula pulled up, jerking Mai to a stop as well. She actually appeared surprised. "Whyever not?"

"I believe she said that she was going to the Assembly Rooms instead."

"To what end? Playing whist with old widows? As that will surely be the only company she will have there for the next week or two at least."

Ty Lee made a noncommittal sound, apparently concentrating more fully on the passage she was currently playing than the comings and goings of Miss Star Sartorius, and Azula looked in deep thought as she began walking again.

"She must think to snub me," she said after a moment, seeming almost amused. "Certainly there can be no other reason, as she rarely misses an invitation to be even in the same building as Zuko."

Zuko snorted dismissively. "She won't be missed, I assure you," he said as Mai and Azula neared him again.

"No, I don't suppose she will," Azula replied, then with unnaturally quick hands snatched up the clutch of papers over which Zuko had been poring.

"Azula!" he exclaimed, but she had, after releasing Mai, already danced a few steps away to examine her spoils.

"How could she ever be missed when it is clear that you are already so very taken?" With a flourish, Azula presented one of the papers she had absconded with to the room.

Mai inhaled sharply as she regarded it. It was a sketch, but still careful. Mai recognized the collar of the very dress that she was wearing, and thick black lines imitated the sweep of her hair. Nestled between: a fair and easily identifiable rendering of her features.

"It's one of your better works, brother," Azula said. "But perhaps your degree of attachment to the subject improves them."

Zuko was nearly shaking, his face a rictus of rage and incredulity.

"You are intolerable!" he yelled, and Ty Lee's playing came to a halt in a cacophony of jumbled notes.

"And you are horribly obvious." Azula smiled around the words. "About everything, as it were, but particularly about the fact that you have, shall we say, a certain fondness for Miss Myerscough. And she's only been here a day."

"I am so very obvious," he gritted out, still incensed, eyes boring into Azula's, "in that sitting, unoccupied, I found her a unique subject among ladies — most of whom are pleased and lively or at least pretending to it — in the stern and imposing manner of her countenance. I thought she should make an uncommon portrait, but you can never let anything alone. Not even when-"

He stopped suddenly and Azula waited, challenging, almost daring him to continue, but it was Mai who next spoke.

"Such a shame then," she said, voice flat, "that there is not circus nearby. Clearly, I would delight the masses in all my weirdness."

Zuko spun to face her, as if only just remembering that she was present. "I do not mean to say that- that is- you are-" He growled in frustration. "I'm sorry," he finally managed, voice still raised, before brushing past Azula and fleeing the room.

Azula walked back over to the desk and delicately lay the picture on it, her air entirely casual. "He's so very temperamental."

"No matter," Mai said, bringing all of her will to bear in order to convince herself, that even for just this moment, that was true, "Tell me more of tonight's party."

The gathering was a sort, it turned out, that Azula had with some frequency. Some score or so guests, and its description reminded Mai of little more than the teas they'd had in their youth, to which Azula would invite certain girls and not invite others in turn, and the only purpose of which was for her to be entertained, in some cases by the quality of the company, in most others by cataloguing their failures.

By its sound, Mai was certain that the current party was largely for the latter purpose as both Azula and Ty Lee had informed her that some of the most fashionable of their acquaintances would not be in London for a few weeks yet. But even for being only good company as opposed to excellent company, Mai still found the party-goers largely more tolerable than the people of Westmacott, though she did have cause to suspect that anyone would be immediately improved by virtue of being in London. Mai, herself, was the object of much attention as her arrival had not been well-publicized, and she could practically see the internal considerations of her name, appearance, and fortune on their faces. Gentlemen tried to charm her and young ladies attempted to discern the degree of her interest in those same gentlemen and whether she would be a good connection for their own interests.

It was all a welcome assistance to her attempt to ignore Zuko wholesale, but ultimately not enough. Regardless of how hard she tried Mai could not ignore him, in either his presence or absence, though the latter was more often the case. He seemed to deliberately arrange himself as far as possible away from his sister and her companions, and Mai often saw him the focus of an excess of feminine attention. He demurred for the most part, from what Mai could see, with the exception of one girl, to whom Mai espied him speaking quietly on numerous occasions throughout the evening, until the question of who exactly the girl was nearly burned in her veins.

She was commonly pretty, Mai supposed, brown-haired and large-eyed, plainly dressed. She leaned towards Zuko whenever he spoke and often rested her hand on his forearm to punctuate some — surely inane — thing she had said. Mai made certain that Zuko had finally left her side for a moment before she inquired after her with Azula.

"Oh, she's no one," Azula said dismissively, turning her attention back to the table where Ty Lee was engaged in a rather noisy game of loo with four gentlemen. "Ty Lee, you really shouldn't take all of their earnings," Azula counseled her after a delighted shriek accompanied the end of another hand.

"I shall take whatever they will allow to be taken," Ty Lee proclaimed to raucous laughter from the table. For a moment, Azula's normally well-schooled countenance was distorted, then it passed as she refocused her attention on Mai.

"How did she come to be invited, then," Mai asked, "if she is no one?"

"Zuko has recently developed the sad tendency to seek her company. Her name is Jin Scurfield. She's of middling birth and has no fortune to speak of. There is a childless, but far more well-appointed couple of whom she is the favourite godchild so she has turned up here for the last few seasons, generally beneath most notice still. However, my brother seems to have become more closely acquainted with her since she got in from Somerset a month or so ago." Azula stopped, studying Mai's face carefully. "You aren't jealous are you?" she asked solicitously, though Mai was sure that the primary source of her eagerness was not concern.

"What reason should I have to be jealous?"

Azula only smiled before dedicating her attention to insinuating herself into the card game still going on.

Mai watched Zuko return to Jin Scurfield's side across the room, but was forced to look away when the girl turned suddenly and caught her eye. When Mai looked back they were gone and it was a moment before she realized that they had disappeared onto the veranda. Mai rose and crossed the room carefully, trying not to call attention to herself. When she arrived near the doors to the veranda she stood off to one side and strained her ears to hear their conversation. At first, she could not make anything out over another ruckus originating from the card table, but it calmed just in time for Mai to hear her own name.

"-particular attention from your sister's friend, Miss Myerscough," Jin Scurfield was saying.

"I hadn't noticed," came Zuko's even response.

"Quite a feat," Jin said softly. Mai thought she detected a trace of humour. "She is extremely handsome, don't you think?"

A pause. "I suppose so."

This time, Jin's amusement was obvious as she laughed. "I dare say anyone with eyes would suppose so. Is she very much…like your sister in disposition, then?"

There was a longer pause, and when he spoke Zuko's voice was rough. "She is easily vexed and continually displeased. She does share my sister's biting wit, at the least, that's certain. And I do not think she has a single whimsical or romantic notion in her body, so gripped she always was by such an ungirlish pragmatism, cynicism almost, even when we were children."

"So many offenses against the perfect image of a bright and lively young lady." Jin sounded almost surprised. "Dare I ask then, what you think of her?"

His next words came in a rush. "I should much rather not think of her at all if it suits you."

Mai back quickly away from the doors, unable to stand any more. Somehow her legs carried her back to her seat, where she rested, perceiving nothing else in the crowded room.

He accused her of cynicism and yet she had been the most foolish of whimsical girls. She had thought that some ephemeral childish affection should last all these years, follow him into adulthood, when he actually had activity and purpose, a life to distract him from it. Constancy to such an insignificant thing could only be managed by the idle and detached, sitting in the corner of her manor's library or staring at the unchanging countryside out of her bedroom window. His inconsistency was no such thing. He was surprised to see her because he had not know she was to arrive, nothing else, and, not only that, but he resented the failures of her character, and perhaps the reminder of his lacking taste in childhood, enough to speak so abominably of her to some other woman to whom she had not even been introduced.

Mai clenched her hands into fists and willed herself to find calm. She had thought this, expected so many things like it, because she iwas/i pragmatic, and she summoned up all the force of that trait to school her emotions. After all, she could not lose what was never truly hers to begin with.

Still, her fists remained clenched for the rest of the night.


End file.
